Always a good side
by The pretty boy
Summary: No matter how engulfed in darkness a person is. No matter how evil they appear to be. There is always a good side to them. . .


Notes ! : Alright let me just say a few things before you read. This is my first for Assassins Creed. So bare with me if I mess up on some of the characters personalities or if something is just completely screw up. We just need to stop and think. My writing skills are going to improve with practice. So don't scold and hurt my fragile self.

But anyway, here's a one shot about the good side of Haytham(Oh p.s. this is set in the third game). I know it may not seem like it. But he's got a good side. We all do. So I thought I'd write this down to show his good side. So Enjoy, Favorite, and Review.

Always a Good Side . .

_This it isn't enough...I still need more!_

The young lad bit the inside of his lip, doing his best to withhold tears that pricked in the corner of his brightly colored orbs. He couldn't cry. He had to be strong. He had to get the money for his mother. She was depending on him and he couldn't let her down!

He didn't know what his mother would say if she knew how he was getting the money. She'd probably comment weakly on how much he was acting like his father, the man who seemed to slip out of their lives when he was needed the most.

The young lad slipped through the crowds after finding the next person to steal from. Pick-pocketing. A skill that just came so natural to him. This wouldn't be his first time steal money from other people. He had done it once or twice before when his father's brother came to visit.

His fathers brother barely came over to the colonies, most the time it was on business and would leave before the weeks end. But when the older man came it was stories of the open seas, pirates, and lessons that they kept hidden from his mother.

The lessons were tips on fighting. His uncle would pick up two sticks and teach the young lad a few things. Or it could be tracking, how to track people through out a crowd by one concentrating on smaller things that people seem to miss. Or it would be something like this. Pick-pocketing.

His uncle showed him how to do it, and the young lad mastered it. He loved the praise his uncle would give him when he returned with the money pouch and the unsuspecting victim walking away.

The boy's next victim was a gentleman probably the same age as his father and his uncle. A tall gentleman with great posture, standing tall and proud. His mother said people like that were either nobles or came from rich enviorments. That's why he picked the man.

The man's hands were folded behind his back as he walked and talked to the man next to him. In and out, no problems, he'll be just as easy as the rest. The youth thought getting close to the man and doing his talent.

Plan's had been going smoothly for Haytham. Just like a stream everything was moving along, in a slow pace, but it was still moving. Haytham wasn't the type to crave excitment and for action. But at the slow pace everything was moving. It would hurt for something to happen.

The grandmaster was walking back to the Green Dragon Tavern. He was accompanied by a loyal templar and his friend, Charles Lee. The two were talking what they would normally talked about, work.

Like mentioned before, everything was moving along swimmingly. They felt little resistance, and the some resistance they did face it was easily wiped out without much effort. Everything was going according to plan, and getting a little bit...Boring.

The streets were crowded as they normally were. People scurring around finding places to go and trying to finish work. So it was only natural for people to bump into one another. But the small child that had bumped into Haytham had a different intention.

Most people who bumped into other were on accident, this boy had done it on purpose. Haytham knew this when the boy's slippery fingers snatched at his money pouch.

It was the small tug that he felt when the boy ran into him. Most people wouldn't have noticed this. But Haytham wasn't like most people. He knew what the boy was doing. And would have to put a stop to it.

-.-.-

"Oh no you don't..." The males voice said grabbing ahold of the young lads wrist. The boy was in complete shock when the old male grabbed tight at his wrist, the same wrist that held the money pouch. The man kept his voice low, not wanting to cause a scene.

How could this have happened? How could this man have caught him so easily? The youth struggled to get out of the man's powerful hold.

"Shall I get the guards?" The man's friend asked. Fear made itself known as it traveled up the boy's spin. His struggling increased as he tried slipping his hand out of the man's hold. But it wasn't working, not in the slightest.

"That won't be necessary Charles." The other man said taking his money pouch, but still not letting go of the boy's small wrist. "What's your name boy?" The male asked.

The boy had stopped struggling completely confused at what was happening at this very moment. He wasn't going to call the redcoats? But instead asked for his name?

"J-Jim...Sir...Jim Thatcher" The boy answer wearily his other small hand over the older man's hand. In his recent struggle his free hand had come to his aid and attampted to open the man's hand to free his wrist. But it didn't work.

"Jim, hmm?" The older man asked and the boy quickly nodded.

It didn't take much to know the boy just wanted to get out of here and never speak of this again.

"Well, Jim, what did you think you were going to do with this money?" He asked gesturing to the money pouch in his free hand. Jim only blushed lightly and looked away. Not answering.

"Now, if you don't tell me I'll tell my friend Charles to get the guards." He nodded over to Charles.

The boy looked over at Charles who looked happy to get the guards either way this went down. The boy swallowed hard in his dry throat and answered

"It's for my mother..." His voice lightly trailed. " ...She's very ill and the doctor said he has something that'll help her get better, but it's not cheap..."

The man exchanged a look with Charles before he spoke again. "What about your father? Surely he has a job to pay for her expenses."

Anger rose up in the boy's stomach, scaring the fear away. From the boy's face and the way he spoke it was easy to tell he was angered. "He left one night and never came back." The boy looked away from the two men as if he was attempting to hide his anger.

And who wouldn't be angry? When their father was needed the most he vanishes! Why would any man do such a thing? When his uncle came by he did what he could to help out his mother and him. But his father barely did anything! He wasn't really a father, just a man. His uncle was more like a father. All of his uncle's pay is sent to them! It was better then what _that_ man has ever done.

Wrapped up in his anger he didn't notice that the older man had let go of his hand, turned it to where the palm was facing up, and laid something in it. By the time the boy did notice he looked over and saw...The money pouch?

The boy looked up at the older man confused and as to if to ask "Why?" The man had a faint smile and just told the boy to leave before he changed his mind. The boy's face lit up. He wanted to hug the man and tell him how much this meant to him. But kept it under control.

The boy was about to turn away and run off into the crowd but didn't instead he asked for the man's name.

"And what would you do with my name, boy?" The older man asked.

"I will find you when I get older and give you your money back!" He promised with a big innocent child's smile.

Liking that answer the man responded. "Haytham...Haytham Kenway."

"Haytham..." The boy repeated lightly smiled big and took off running. Disappearing through the crowd and off to show his mother what a generous man did for them.

-.-.-

"Sir?" Charles asked confused at the grandmaster extremely generous act.

Haytham didn't answer at first, but refolded his arms and started walking again. Charles caught up with him and started walking by his side. And bothered again.

"Sir, excuse me for asking, but why did you do that?" He asked again, then added. "He could of been acting and - "

Haytham lightly cut his friend off. " - There are somethings you can not fake Charles."

The fear showned in the boy's brightly blue eyes when he talked about his mother's illness. And then the anger that burned around him when he spoke of his father. Emotions like that couldn't be faked easily.

Then that excitment, when the boy's face lit up. Haytham couldn't help but to smile at the boy's smile. So innocent and not yet touched by the darkness of the world.

"Sir...?"

"Well Charles, There is always a good side to a person..."


End file.
